Fking A
by Kimi-sama
Summary: Draco is a veela. Harry is his mate. The whole thing is horribly cliche, I am 99% sure I will never finish it. SLASH DMHP
1. In which mates are found

I don't own Harry Potter. No suing please.  
  
ATTENTION!!!!! THIS STORY CONTAINS SLASH AS IN GAY RELATIONSHIPS. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, GO AWAY. DON'T FLAME ME BECAUSE YOU WERE STUPID AND CONTINUED READING.  
  
There will be deaths here so if that isn't what you want to read, you are now warned.  
  
Also, I'm breaking a cardinal rule of writing by making this story, 'write what you know' and all that. Because, even though I'm seventeen, I have never been in a relationship, nor have I had a crush on somebody, not that I'm aware of anyway. So I have no idea the emotions involved in this sort of thing...so if it seems a little unreal to you that's probably why. Just tell me what you think it should be and I'll do my best to make it more real.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The Hogwarts Express gleamed scarlet before him. Puffs of white steam escaped from wherever steam came from on trains to float mystically in the air before fading. Draco snorted scornfully. The train didn't even run on coal. It was enchanted to travel to and from Hogwarts. The steam was there to mystify first years, mudbloods, and their stupid muggle parents.  
  
The blond boy flicked his hair out of his eyes in an abrupt angry movement. He was wearing it down this year, having come to the horrifying realization that the slicked back look made him look like he was wearing a helmet all the time, and he still wasn't used to it hanging in front of his face.  
  
Platform 9 ¾ was nearly empty this early in the morning, but those people that were there were beginning to give his slightly disturbing looks, which was exactly why Draco had come this early.  
  
You see, the Malfoy family had a secret. Narcissa Malfoy was veela. She was carefully kept out of the public eye as much as possible, for it would be shameful to have the wizarding world know that for all their pureblood posturing, there was a veela in the gene pool. Narcissa didn't really mind being hidden away, at least not that Draco noticed, as long as she had her mate, Lucius. But being Draco's mother, this meant that he was half veela and when he'd turned 16 a little over a month ago he'd received his inheritance. This basically meant Draco exuded sexual magnetism like it was going out of style. And, as nice as it was to have a couple of people rushing to and fro on his every whim, it wouldn't do to have a mob of lust crazed people after him.  
  
For most veela or part veela this wouldn't be a problem. They would simply tone down their magnetism to manageable levels and be done with it. But Draco hadn't learned how to yet, even though he'd had his inheritance for over a month. His mother, by all rights, should have taught him control by now but with his father in Azkaban, he couldn't help a flicker of pain that accompanied the thought, Narcissa was half mad from being separated from her mate and in no condition to leave her room much less teach her son about being a veela.  
  
He could still remember the way she looked that last time he saw her, a miserable shadow of her former self. Her normally pristine face was red from crying, her eye's blood shot and more than a little mad. She's taken one look at him and started screaming at him to get out of her rooms. When he didn't obey fast enough she threw a priceless figurine at him to hurry his steps and broke into anguished cries. Pleading for Lucius to come back. That had been the first day back from school. He'd avoided her rooms for the rest of the summer. He didn't want to see the pathetic creature that had once been his mother.  
  
That could be him. Draco prayed every night, to any God he could think of, that he never found his mate. The mere thought of anyone having the power to reduce him to a whimpering mass like that made him shudder. It was unthinkable.  
  
His mother was another thing Draco had to pay Potter back for. One in a long list of things, which included refusing his hand on the train in first year and getting a position on the Quidittch team in his first year, causing Father to be disappointed with him.  
  
Draco climbed onto the train. He carried no luggage. That's what house- elves were for. Settling himself in an empty compartment Draco pulled out a potions textbook to pass the time. Contrary to popular belief Draco received his high score in potions on his own merit. He actually quite enjoyed potions though he wouldn't persue a career in it. Malfoys didn't work in the brewing industry. It made for greasy hair and Malfoy's always looked the best. But anyway, now was a good a time as any to get some studying done. Snape always gave a pop quiz on the first day back from summer.  
  
Eventually door slid open and Blaise Zabini backed into the compartment dragging his trunk.  
  
"Hello Draco," he said amiably "how was your summer vacation?"  
  
"How is it that you always seem to know where I am?" Blaise had been doing it for years and it drove Draco insane.  
  
"It's just a matter of following oh my God!" Blaise had gotten his first glimpse of Draco's new look.  
  
Draco sat back, enjoying his reaction immensely.  
  
"How often have I told you not to use that muggle term Blaise?" he asked nonchalantly.  
  
"But- I- wha-?" The other boy shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "What the hell? You're ho-I'm straight! Turn it off!" It didn't work very well.  
  
Draco's smirk widened.  
  
"You have known me since I was three Blaise. You knew very well that I came into my inheritance this summer. Stop staring and acting surprised and put your trunk away."  
  
"I would if you'd turn that bloody attraction off." Blaise snapped and then immediately became apologetic and then angry that he was apologizing.  
  
Draco's good mood vanished in the blink of an eye.  
  
"I can't, Mother hasn't taught me how yet." Draco looked away, vaguely embarrassed.  
  
Blaise gathered himself together with a visible effort.  
  
"What? She sent you to a school full of horny teenagers without knowing how to control your powers? Is she insane?"  
  
Draco concealed a flinch; she might very well be, and snarled back at the boy.  
  
"Well, she wasn't exactly in the best condition to teach me with Father gone. Because of Potter." He spat the Golden Boy's name out like acid and continued to fume in silence. Blaise knew better than to comment.  
  
"It's not that bad." Blasie tried to look on the bright side. "all you have to do is find your mate, right? And then your attraction level should go down."  
  
Draco made a noncommittal noise and hoped his mate wasn't within a hundred miles. Or better yet, he hoped his mate was dead. Yes, that would do nicely.  
  
"Hello Blaise." Pansy stuck her head into the compartment and simpered at the boy. "Have you seen Draco?"  
  
Blaise pointed to the blond boy who was currently trying to hide behind his potion textbook. The look Draco shot him promised dire consequences as Pansy caught sight of him, latched onto his arm and began to drool on his sleeve. She was not a very close friend of Dracos. She didn't know he was part veela. All she knew was that suddenly he was irresistible.  
  
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are Draciepoo?" She fluttered her eyelashes.  
  
"Yes, Pansy, many times. Get off my arm."  
  
"Oh you're so funny Draco! You know you don't need to play hard to get. You can have me anytime you want." She trailed a hand over his chest and looked up at his with lust clouded eyes. Draco recoiled in disgust and wrenched the hand away. How dare she!  
  
"You stupid whore! I'd kill myself rather than be with you!" Her eyes filled with tears, face twisted in anguish. Devastated that such a thing of beauty had rejected her. Still, she clung to his side.  
  
Draco glanced up to Blaise for help and was taken aback at the jealously he saw there. The other boy's eyes were fixed upon where Pansy clutched him. When he glanced up to Draco's face it was a long leisurely trip up his body examining it as though it were some priceless artifact to be possessed. Draco felt suddenly claustrophobic; he had to get out.  
  
"I'll be back when you two can control yourselves." He tossed out lightly hiding his sudden panic and tore Pansy's hand off his arm ignoring her small cry of pain. He made for the hall and breathed a great sigh of relief as the door slid shut behind him.  
  
He regretted it almost immediately.  
  
People in the corridor stopped what they were doing. Silence spread down the hall. One by one they took Draco in and licked their lips. For the first time he really appreciated the danger he'd put himself in by going to Hogwarts without having control of his magnetism. Someone could very well rape him while they were consumed by lust. This was not the time to be without someone he trusted not to jump him the second his back was turned.  
  
Two doors down Justin Flinchsomething or other, Draco had never bothered to learn the mudbloods name, stepped out of his compartment, caught sight of Draco and smiled hungrily. He started forward, lust gleaming in his eyes, at just the moment Draco decided the other end of the corridor looked rather enticing and began walking away. Justin followed.  
  
**Fuck! Not a day into school and I'm going to be molested. By a mudblood no less. **  
  
At the end of the hallway the blond boy panicked. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Justin was nearly on him and looking more lecherous by the second. Where to go? Where to go? He finally darted into the last compartment, heart pounding and hoping that whoever occupided it was able to keep hold of their libido better than whatshisname could.  
  
Three feet into the compartment Draco froze. It was indescribable, the smell that reached him. It curled around him warming him, energizing him. It smelled like dirt and sweat and faintly of peach shampoo. Perfect, absolutely perfect. Draco needed more, he could never get enough.  
  
Draco Malfoy had found his mate and all he wanted to do was go find a corner to curl up and die in.  
  
It was Harry Potter.  
  
The dark haired boy mocked him with his tantalizing flawlessness. His wild black hair fell haphazardly, adorably. His beautiful green eyes blinked bewilderedly at him from behind his glasses. They sparkled in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. Pale skin and long thin limbs were as enticing as any artfully posed centerfold even though they were folded simply in his lap. When the boy reached up to run a graceful hand through his hair Draco had to suppress a whimper and the urge to catch that pale hand in his own and never relinquish it.  
  
It was awful. Wrong. Pansy might have been better. Draco was torn between bolting from the room and sweeping Harry up and snogging him senseless. The compartment door slid open. Draco made up his mind and darted to the window, incidentally next to Potter, and turned to face the mudblood boy. The three bewildered people that made up the Golden Trio turned their confused gazes from the Slytherin to Justin who stared into the compartment for a moment his expression unreadable. He looked hard at Draco a moment then shook his head as though to clear it and frowned.  
  
"I- I'm sorry. I came here for something...but now I can't seem to remember what. Sorry to have bothered you." He cast one last bemused glance at the Slytherin and backed out. The Dream Team turned their gazes back the blond.  
  
"What was that about Malfoy?" Weasly asked, arching a freckled brow. "Your body gaurds nowhere to be found so you ran away from a little muggleborn?"  
  
"It's none of your business Weasel." Draco sneered. "Coming in here was a very unfortunate accident I hope to forget soon." Merlin, he wished he could forget. Why couldn't Voldemort have been competent and killed Potter off when he was a baby?  
  
"That makes two of us." Potter shot back.  
  
The veela opened his mouth again to spit something that would undoubtedly be really nasty Potters way and found himself mute. He tried again, nothing. He shut his mouth with a horrified snap. And under the puzzled eyes of the three Gryfindors he drew the remnants of his pride about him like a tattered cloak and stared down his nose at them.  
  
The effect was sort of ruined by the way his knees went all watery when Harry licked his lips.  
  
"If you've got nothing to say Malfoy, leave." Potter said coldly.  
  
Any other time Draco would have sat down just to spite him. But this time Draco felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and cold hand squeeze his heart. The veela gratefully began to flee the compartment as the train lurched into motion knocking him off balance. Potter reflexively caught his arm to steady him. He yanked his hand back with a hiss and watched as Harry's face hardened and then pointedly turned to Weasley.  
  
"Who do you think will win the Cup this year?" he asked. Ron blinked in confusion.  
  
"Um...Puddlemere has a pretty good chance I guess."  
  
Their voices became muffled as Draco shut the door behind himself. The blond rubbed at his wrist where Harry's had burnt him and planted his feet. He refused to run back in there and fling himself at the Boy Who Lived like he wanted to.  
  
What the hell was he? A girl? Malfoys don't go around flinging themselves at the first person who catches their fancy. And they certainly did not get teary eyed when said person dismissed them.  
  
~ Get a grip Draco. ~ He scowled ferociously and headed back to his compartment, reducing a group of first years to tears on the way, just to prove to himself he still could. Blaise looked up as he entered, Pansy was absent.  
  
"Hey! You're not sparkling anymore."  
  
Draco sneered and sat down, he needed to think about this. Blaise wouldn't leave it alone, he'd been sharing a dorm with Draco too long to be properly intimidated.  
  
"I mean, you nearly normal, I don't want to kiss you or anything." He rambled.  
  
Draco felt disgusted even thinking about kissing someone other than his mate. "Thank Merlin for that."  
  
"The only way you could have stopped the attraction," Blaise went on like Draco hadn't spoken, staring thoughtfully at the blond boy. "was by finding your mate or learning to suppress your powers."  
  
Draco stared back coolly.  
  
"That Justin boy, from Ravenclaw, nearly molested me in the hall. I suppose I suppressed the atraction subconsciously so he'd go away." He offered.  
  
It wouldn't do to have Blaise know he's found his mate. The boy would go picking around where he wasn't wanted until he found it was Potter and then ridiculous matchmaking schemes would ensue, and those definitely weren't wanted. Draco would kiss Dumbldors ridiculous shoes before he willingly became Harry Potter's boyfriend. Although his lips did look tantalizingly soft and Draco could only imagine how exquisite his eyes looked when clouded with lust... Draco roughly pushed the unwelcome thoughts away and resisted the urge to shake his head.  
  
"I guess that, makes sense..." Blaise continued to watch him though. "You're sure you didn't smell anything?"  
  
"Other than the stench of that mubdblood that mudblood that tried to molest me? No." he ground out.  
  
Blaise opened his mouth inquire further but Draco fixed him with a stony look and stared him down.  
  
"I'll just go find Pansy and tell her it's safe to come and apologize now." He volunteered and disappeared out the door.  
  
"You do that. And while you're out pick up a bottle of poison would you? I'd like to off myself." Draco muttered to the empty room  
  
Potter.  
  
It was impossible, unthinkable. But it was undeniably true, as evidenced by that wonderful scent that teased him even now. And the way that, against all better judgment, he dearly wanted to return to Harry's compartment, throw himself at the boys feet and beg forgiveness – and maybe a kiss – for all his past transgressions. Over his cold dead body! They'd have to torture him and use the Imperious curse first.  
  
The veela folded his arms stubbornly and brooded. The problem with his resolution to not throw himself at the Gryffindorks feet however was that whenever he'd get near the other boy the feeling of wanting to pounce him would get infinitely stronger. Draco had learned that much at least from his mother as a child. So keeping up the usual Potter insults was out of the question. In fact, avoiding the boy as much as possible seemed ideal. Though his heart gave a pang at the idea he ruthlessly squashed the feeling.  
  
No one showed up in the compartment for the rest of the trip. Blaise must have passed the word around that Draco was in one of his 'moods'. So he was free to plan out how he would avoid Potter.  
  
At the welcome feast Draco spent most of his time trying not to stare at Pottter and failing miserably. And somehow between the questions from Blaise about who he was staring at and the apologies from Pansy "I'm so sorry Draco! I don't know what came over me. I thought I'd gotten over my crush on you last year." He had time to notice how sad Potter looked. He picked at his food, barely laughed and rarely joined in with the conversations around him. Draco wanted to rush over and comfort the boy. At the same time he was laughing at him. Served the Golden Boy right, getting his godfather killed. Draco had warned him he was on the wrong side of the war but did Harry listen? No. The Boy Who Lived was above listening to other people, and look what it got him. A dead dog for a godfather.  
  
Despite the fact he immediately felt contrite for think sure awful thoughts about his beautiful mate, Draco stuck stubbornly with them. He they were derailed by obnoxious laughter. Pansy had evidently noticed Potter distress. She was laughing pointedly in his direction. Anger bubbled in Draco.  
  
"Aw, is Potter still sad about killing yet another person?" She mocked across the hall. Whispers broke out everywhere. Someone else was dead? No one else had heard of this. Draco gripped his fork until his knuckles went white as Harry bowed his head. No one was allowed to pick on his mate!  
  
"Don't worry. You did everyone a big favor." She smiled nastily. "One less stray mutt to plague the world."  
  
The rest of the Slithering table joined her in laughing at him. Ron and Hermione leapt to their feet, rage in every line of their bodies at the same moment that Draco slammed his fork, point down, into the last of his food. Later the house elves would have to throw the plate away because the fork went right through, splitting the plate in half and no charm they could work on it would put it back together again.  
  
He snarled at Blaise. "Password."  
  
The other boy blinked. "What?"  
  
"The password. Give me the password now." Draco rumbled and despite himself Blaise recoiled from his tone.  
  
"Shining scales. Why?"  
  
Draco didn't even bother answering. He stood up so fast it jostled the bench and stormed out of the hall leaving his puzzled friend behind. Mealtimes obviously were going to be a problem too. He'd wanted to jump on Pansy and beat the living daylights out of her for insulting Harry. This was huge! It was one of the main Slytherin dinner topics. You disparaged Harry Potter or you kept your mouth shut. He wouldn't be able to sit with his friends at practically any meals without wanting to hurt at least one of them. It was appalling. His life was ruined, as well as any aspirations of continuing being the king of Slytherins.  
  
When Draco reached his bed he sat down on the edge of it and put his head in his hands. He had never in his life hated being a Malfoy more than he did at that moment. He thought curses at his mother for being a veela, for being weak, for not preparing him for this, any of it. He was blind and deaf, fumbling his way around a room he had never been in and couldn't leave and feeling like a right arse doing it. Some days it just didn't pay to get up in the morning.  
  
***  
  
Draco began implementing his plan the next day. He rose earlier than most of the other students, certainly earlier than the notoriously heavy sleeper Harry Potter, and ate breakfast quickly. In NEWT potions Draco sat in the very front so that if he went to stare at Potter he'd have to twist all the way around in his seat. He stopped making fun of Potter and Co. because when the black haired boy snapped back it was like being hit with a sledgehammer, he was reeling afterwards. Outside of class he kept mostly to the dungeons, library and the Slytherin dorms. Places that the great Harry Potter avoided as much as possible.  
  
Unexplainably, Draco witnessed a steady decline in his health over the first weeks of school. A flight of stairs became a monumental undertaking that left him out of breath and shaky. He slept longer and longer. He'd become dizzy in the hallways or when he moved too fast. Despite his friends urging he refused to visit Madame Pomfrey. He was sure it would pass in time. They relented in their urgings after he threatened to expose some sensitive materials to the public eye.  
  
But it didn't go away, and if anything his longing for Harry had gotten stronger. It was all encompassing now. He dreamt of the boy. And during the day it was almost all he could think about. In those rare moments he saw the other in the halls he had to repress the urge to follow him around, just to see what he was doing, like some deranged stalker. His past behavior was a constant painful pressure on his mind. Potter probably hated him and there was nothing he could do about it. And yet he didn't regret it and if he could shut off his veela instincts he'd go right back to tormenting the other boy, and be happy about it. Well, Draco couldn't really imagine being happy about making Harry miserable at the moment, but he supposed he would be. He'd been that way before.  
  
The whole thing was driving him insane! He'd just be walking along and Blaise would say something funny and Draco would think, "I wonder if Harry would think that was funny?" and not only would he be mad that he'd thought of that he'd be sad he didn't know the answer and irritated he was sad. As a result Draco was almost always in a bad mood. The other Slytherins were permanently walking on eggshells around him.  
  
One day Draco would up and stood, gently holding the bedpost until the, by now, familiar dizziness passed. Only this time, it didn't. It faded until he almost didn't notice how the floor felt unsteady beneath his feet. The part veela rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and wished fervently for the bed behind him. But he had a project due in Transfiguration that he couldn't miss and he'd slept enough lately. He went to bed as early as possible and took naps in-between, and sometimes in, his classes. Staggering into the shower he washed and dressed, having to clutch the bedpost again as he leaned over to pick up his clothes, or he risked falling over. He picked up his bag with an effort that had begun to worry him and headed to the stairway that led to the common room.  
  
He never made it there.  
  
####  
  
END CHAPTER 1  
  
Alright people, I seriously need some opinions here. Possible information that I'd really like to know is:  
  
The narration: I don't like third person POV it always seems rather cold and impersonal when I'm writing it. I prefer 1st person POV but that would be bad for this story. So please tell me if this is too cold or maybe too descriptive and how I can fix it.  
  
The romantic longing stuff: I've never liked anyone that way so this might be way off. Is it too much? If so tell me what is too much. Is it not enough? Tell me what would be good to add. Is it all wrong? Tell me how to fix it.  
  
A beta, I am currently doing this all myself and I always miss stuff. So if anybody would like to beta please let me know...  
  
OTHER ANNOUNCEMENTS  
  
This is essentially a test chapter. I'm pretty much seeing what I did wrong so I can fix it and go on with the rest of story with this in mind. I don't really plan on posting anything else with this until it's at least mostly done. So don't expect anything else right away. And PLEASE be nice when you review. I'm very cowardly about my stuff and flames would probably send me packing.  
  
Oh yes, and I'm aware that Draco is at least a little OOC. It's pretty much impossible to have him in character for this sort of thing. If he was in character he wouldn't be a veela and he'd hate Harry's guts. 


	2. In which we see what Harrys been doing

I don't own harry Potter or anything related. Please don't sue me. P.S. I have no heart. If Harry doesn't seem to be missing Sirius properly blame it on that.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Harry Potter had spent his summer kicking around Privet Dr., being ignored by the Dursleys. He survived mostly on water and the candy sent to him by his friends, wrote letters to the Order to let them know he was fine considering the circumstances, and brooded. He thought of a lot of things while stuck in his small bedroom, most of them involved Sirius. In the first weeks of summer he'd cried a lot, mostly at night when there was no chance of having Dudley walk by and hear him. His godfather, whom he had only discovered he had two years ago, had died, and it was mostly his fault. So he cried.  
  
Crying was better than sleeping anyway. Voldemort used those times to send him dreams. They were filled with the bodies of slaughtered muggles. Sometimes Voldemort would make an appearance himself to tell Harry to give up. To quit before more of his friends were killed because of him. He taunted Harry about his godfather's death. He meant to wear down Harry's will to fight but all the Dark Lord actually did was pissed the Boy Who Lived off.  
  
He was aware of the fact that it was his fault Sirius died, OK? He should have studied Occulmency harder, spoken to someone about his worries or at least not gone haring off to save the day with a gaggle of half-trained witches and wizards.  
  
That didn't mean Voldemort had to keep shoving it in his face! After all, if Voldemort hadn't given Harry those dreams he wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries and gotten Sirius killed now would he? And the more that Voldemort mentioned Sirius the more determined Harry got to make the evil bastard pay. He spent the rest of the summer hardening his resolve.  
  
He had plenty of time to do it too, because he received a letter on his birthday telling him it would be safer if he stayed with the Dursleys. His books would be picked up for him. Happy Birthday and have a nice summer! Signed Remus.  
  
Fuck Remus. And fuck the Order too! Harry had picked up the present that had come with the letter and hurled it angrily at the wall. Something in it shattered with a crystalline sound. Breathing hard he had stood there for a moment fuming at the injustice of his life. Then he picked up the box and gently placed it under his bed, he could repair it when he got to school.  
  
It was probably for the best they left him here. They wouldn't want a murderer with them. Who knew who he'd go off to save and accidentally kill next he thought bitterly and pushed the letter to the back of his mind, where it festered, making his meeting with the Weasleys on Platform 9 ¾ stiff and uncomfortable. He didn't hug Mrs. Weasley back when she hugged him. She was just doing it for show anyway, she didn't really want to hug a murderer.  
  
When Draco Malfoy burst into the compartment he was occupying with Ron and Hermione he was a little grateful. He'd interrupted delightful questions like "Harry are you OK?" and "You know it wasn't your fault don't you?" But mostly he was stunned by the blonde's new appearance. The boy was nearly glowing for goodness sake! Malfoy's face, which had always been pinched and pointed, had filled out. Sure it was still a little pointed but it was more of an aristocratic sharpness now. His eye's seemed a bit paler than the blue they were last year. And...had the boy's eyelashes grown longer? It was hard to tell because they were blond but Harry felt a twinge of pity. He was going to use that next time Draco made fun of his scar. Malfoy would undoubtedly be really sensitive about his girly eyelashes. But, what was the young aristocrat looking rather out of breath and a little panicked for? The blond suddenly dashed for the window startling Harry.  
  
Justin Flinch-Fletchy peered into the compartment and made some lame apologies before retreating. By the time Harry turned back to Malfoy he had his nose so high in the air Harry expected him to develop frostbite. This was at odds with the fact he was pressed up against the window as though he were having a torrid affair with it. The thought brought a smile to Harry's lips as Ron asked Malfoy what he was doing there. The blond pushed himself away from the window.  
  
"It's none of your business Weasel." He sneered. "Coming in here was a very unfortunate accident I hope to forget soon."  
  
Right! Malfoy came into their compartment every year, without fail, to taunt them. The idea that he'd just wandered in by accident was ludicrous. It was more likely that Dudley would take up ballet dancing. Harry fixed his rival with a jaundiced eye and waited for him to say something, he'd be on him in a second. He had a summer of repressed anger to work out after all.  
  
"That makes two of us." Harry prompted.  
  
Malfoy opened his mouth... and nothing came out. His jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds before snapping shut. Maybe the blond had grown a brain over the summer. He drew himself up, it didn't take very long, despite being taller than Harry he was very thin and there wasn't much to draw up.  
  
What was Malfoy doing here if not to insult? Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair.  
  
"If you've got nothing to say Malfoy, leave."  
  
Harry meant to sound tired and dismissive but by the way Malfoy began to flee the compartment he must have sounded positively murderous. The train shifted as it started up and the blond teetered. Harry caught his arm to steady him without thinking. Malfoy ripped his hand away with a hiss of disgust.  
  
Asshole. Harry withdrew into himself. He'd just caught his arm for Gods sake. It's not like he'd spit on his hands before touching him. Probably didn't want a murderer touching him. Ha! Well, guess what used to hug you before he got shipped off to Azkaban! Harry turned to Ron.  
  
"Who do you think will win the Cup this year?" he asked even though he didn't really care. He watched Malfoy leave with cold eyes and didn't listen to Ron's response.  
  
Harry had never noticed how boring the welcome feast was. It was pretty much the same speech from Dumbledor year after year – he was wearing purple robes with bright green moons and stars on them this year- and the sorting took forever. Why did everyone have to clap after each kid was sorted? It just made it take longer. Harry felt eyes on him for most of the meal but shrugged it off. Snape always tried to stare a hole in him at the welcome feast. The black haired boy ignored him this year. He was tired of seeing the older man looking disappointed that he'd lived through another summer and had the gall to return to Hogwarts. He was tired of the first years that sat farther down the table looking at him like the sun rose and set on him. Sometimes it was all he could do not to get up and shake them and scream that he wasn't a hero, he wasn't worth all this attention, that he'd get them all killed if they kept relying on him.  
  
He was picking at his potatoes when Ron nudged him in the ribs.  
  
"McGonagal's heading this way." he hissed. Harry turned to face the approaching professor. She held a cane and walked with a slight limp now. Her hair was streaked with more gray and the lines on her face deepened.  
  
"Mr.Potter, the Headmaster wishes to see you in his office directly after dinner."  
  
"Yes ma'am." he said.  
  
"The password is licorice." She limped back to the professor's table.  
  
"What do you think he wants Harry?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"You haven't done-?" Hermione began.  
  
"Anything! It's only the first day of school Hermione!" he snapped.  
  
She drew back, hurt. Ron tried to laugh it off.  
  
"We have before!"  
  
Harry just fixed him with a look and Ron went back to eating. Noxious laughter caught his attention. Pansy Parkinson was laughing at him.  
  
"Aw, is Potter still sad about killing yet another person?" She mocked him. Harry tensed as whispers broke out around him. "Don't worry. You did everyone a big favor." She sneered "One less stray mutt to plague the world."  
  
The rest of the Slitherin table joined her in laughing at him and Harry looked down to hide the vicious smile that curved his lips. She would get what was coming to her. One day when she went crawling to Voldemort he'd be there, waiting, and she would dearly regret her laughter.  
  
Ron and Hermione leapt to their feet and he touched their arms to sit them down. He didn't pay attention to Malfoy as he stormed from the hall.  
  
After dinner Harry made his way to the gargoyle in front of the Headmasters office.  
  
"Licorice." The gargoyle jumped to the side. Harry climbed the stairs.  
  
"Come in." Dumbledor's muffled voice drifted through the door. Harry surveyed the new landscape of the Headmasters office with a twinge of guilt. Some of the furniture was new as well as many of the knickknacks on the walls. He'd smashed them last year in a fit of rage. Harry considered apologizing, but only for a moment. The chair he settled in was comfortable despite its newness.  
  
"Did you have a nice summer Harry?" Dumbledor smiled at him over the rims of his glasses, his eyes twinkling.  
  
"It was fine." he said.  
  
"No strange dreams?" The old man prodded gently. Harry snorted.  
  
"I had lot's off strange dreams. Voldemort was very insistent that I give up." Ablus sighed, looking weary. He was doing that a lot of late.  
  
"So you're still have Voldemort invade you dreams." Harry restrained a very sarcastic remark on that particular comment. He doubted that the Headmaster would be taken with his opinion.  
  
"I am sorry my dear boy, but I must insist that you return to Professor Snape for Occulmency lessons." he said.  
  
"But Professor-!" Harry cried. Albus waved him silent.  
  
"I quite remember you dissagreements."  
  
Disagreements? Disagreements! Give the man an award. That had to be the understatement of the year. Snape hated him, and he'd let that hatred blind him and had kicked him out before Harry had learned what he needed to know so he wouldn't go off and get anyone killed. There was no way in hell Harry was going back there!  
  
"I know you two don't get along and I'm not asking you to suddenly start liking him. Just learn what you need to know. I've had a talk with Professor Snape and he's agreed to teach you again and try to keep a hold of his anger provided that you apologize for invading his privacy." Albus fixed the horrified boy with a stern look. "I was not aware that you had invaded Professor Snapes privacy Mr. Potter."  
  
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. The Headmaster obviously wanted some sort of confession but Harry was fairly certain Snape would rip him to shreds if he ever found out Harry had spilled the beans. Besides he was too petrified and angry to care what Dumbledor wanted at the moment.  
  
Albus had had a talk with Snape? The old man had just signed his death warrant! His NEWT class was going to be hell on earth. And Snape wanted him to apologize? The greasy bastard probably wanted him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Harry fumed, he needed those lessons desperately, he realized that, but he'd be damned if he groveled for them! He could find books on Occulmency, maybe some wizarding catologe, and he didn't need Snape to practice repelling attacks on his mind. Voldemort went after him nearly every night. He could practice then. Granted, it was wrong of him to go rummaging through Snapes stuff. He'd have probably apologized to him anyway.  
  
Urg, Dumbledor had talked to Snape about it. Harry could just imagine the first day of lessons with Snape looming over his shoulder and sneering at him.  
  
"So our resident celebrity can't take a little criticism? His precious mind is too fragile? You had to go running to the Headmaster to deal with you problems. Lets see if we can't toughen up that mind a little. Three weeks of detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest. Maybe running for you life will put a little criticism into perspective."  
  
He wouldn't actually mention the running for your life thing, but he'd be thinking it. And knowing Ron and Hermione they'd probably insist on going along as backup and he'd be putting them in even more danger.  
  
Dumbledor kept staring at him. Harry stared right back. Silence was a good strategy, most people moved to fill it, spilling who knows how many secrets, but Harry was good a silence. He'd had lots of practice in the first ten years of his life and he got to brush up every summer. Most of the time silence came more naturally to him than noise. Finally Dumbledor ran out of papers to shuffle around and looked up.  
  
"Your first lesson with Professor Snape will be this Saturday at seven p.m. You will apologize then." His voice brooked no argument. His eyes softened then, becoming sad and regretful. "And there is one more thing. I tried to get your ban on Quidittch removed Harry but it was impossible. I am sorry Harry, you'll get your broom back soon and you can fly, but not on the Quidittch teams."  
  
Harry remained silent, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair until they turned white. "It's ok." He choked out. Even though it wasn't, dear God, it wasn't all right he still got up when the Headmaster said good night and walked stiffly to the door.  
  
"Welcome back to Hogwarts Harry." The Headmaster said softly.  
  
Yes, Harry thought as he walked down the stairs. Welcome back indeed.  
  
"Harry, you need to eat more than that."  
  
"I'm just not hungry this morning Hermione." He sighed and picked at his food. "I'll eat more at lunch." He wouldn't, he wasn't ever hungry anymore, but Hermione didn't needed to know that. It would only make her worry needlessly.  
  
"As long as you do eat more." She continued to eye him, twisting a stand of hair in a habit she's apparently picked up over the summer. Ron intervened before she could add anything else, bating her hand away from her hair and shrugging off her glare.  
  
"Leave off Hermione, no one eats a lot all the time."  
  
"I do." She snapped.  
  
"Well you're Hermione aren't you? You're not normal people."  
  
"Come on Hermione, it's time for potions." Harry interrupted their fight before it could escalate; they didn't have time for it now. Ron shook his head.  
  
"I'm glad I didn't get in. See Hermione, that's probably why Harry isn't eating. Merlin knows I wouldn't eat before that gits class."  
  
Hermione snorted and they left Ron to finish his breakfast. At potions they sat in the very back. Hermione wanted to sit closer but Harry ignored her and she eventually sat down next to him. Snape burst into the room right on time, as usual. He started speaking the moment the door crashed open.  
  
"All of you have made it into NEWT potions. Congratulations." He came to a stop at the front and faced them sourly. "I expect much better performances than you showed last year. House rivalries will not be tolerated. Unlike last year, where a mistake could leave you with messy robes and en extra set of eyes a mistake this year could get you or someone else in this classroom killed."  
  
He fixed them all with his dark stare and then turned in a flurry of sweeping robes to his desk.  
  
"The potion you will be making today is on the board, it is review so I expect you all to have this perfect. There will be no getting help from your neighbors. If you cannot follow these rules you will leave this classroom and fail this quiz. Start!" he barked.  
  
At the end of class they all turned in their potions, which Harry did horribly on.  
  
"Mr. Potter, stay behind." Snape said.  
  
Harry halted, swallowing a groan. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look a fled. When the classroom was empty Harry and Snape locked eyes over the Professors desk. The tension in the room was palpable.  
  
"All of the students in this class made their way into it on their own merit Mr. Potter." He said quietly, vindictively. "All except for one. You."  
  
Harry bristled. "I got an O." he snapped. "The same as everyone else...sir."  
  
Snape laughed at him.  
  
"Oh you poor deluded boy. You had improved a little in potions by the end of the year I'll admit," the way his mouth puckered made it clear he wasn't happy about it. "but it wasn't enough to get you an O in potions. Had Dumbledor not interfered I would have had you out of my classroom in a heartbeat."  
  
The greasy man paused, giving Harry a chance to speak. The boy remained silent, shivering in betrayal. Dumbledor wouldn't do that, would he? Harry would like to think that he wouldn't but his actions last year spoke otherwise. Snape continued.  
  
"And now, I am forced to give you Occulmency lessons again." He exited from behind his desk and circled Harry, stopping too close to him, breathing down the boy's neck. "Practice clearing your mind each night before bed. I will know if you don't and the lessons will cease immediately. Do you understand boy? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" he roared when Harry didn't respond fast enough.  
  
"Yes." Harry said tightly.  
  
"Yes sir. You will show me respect you stupid child." Snape hissed.  
  
"Yes. Sir. May I go now? Sir."  
  
"You are dismissed. I suggest you enlist Ms. Granger's help in studying for this class Mr. Potter. Unless you want to seriously injure yourself. Given your track record I wouldn't rule out the possibility. Anything for a little attention from the fans, right Potter?"  
  
Harry clenched his fists until his nails bit painfully into his palms and stalked out of the room. He closed his mouth tightly over some very sour words, it would only give him more to apologize for on Saturday. Hermione was waiting for him at the end of the hall.  
  
"What did he want?"  
  
"To tell me to practice Occulmency and to insult me. Like usual."  
  
He ran a hand through his hair and cast the worried girl a glance. He didn't want to tell her about Snapes revelation. He wasn't quiet sure what he made of it yet- or even if he believed the slimy bastard- so he didn't want anyone else's opinion. Besides Hermione would make a fuss and that's that last thing he wanted.  
  
He was disappointed with Dumbledor and angry. The old man knew he didn't want to coast through life on the prestige of his name. So why had he done this? Did he think it would make Harry happy? Was it some sort of obscure apology about last year? Harry just didn't know. But if he hadn't made it into potions on his own...maybe he would do well to take the Potions Masters advice, just this once.  
  
"Hermione, I need your help studying for potions." he said.  
  
"What?" she said suspiciously.  
  
"Will you help me study for potions?"  
  
"And you'll really study?" she narrowed her eyes at him, something like hope burning in them.  
  
For the first time Harry was struck by how much joy she derived from learning and teaching. He and Ron had always passed it off as some strange obsession and made fun of her, like everybody else. He hadn't really considered how much it might secretly hurt her to have one of her greatest joys in life constantly made fun of. Staring into her hopeful eyes Harry made a promise to himself that he'd leave off teasing her.  
  
"I'll really study." he smiled at her.  
  
"Alright! First we're going to have to review some because, let's face it, you didn't absorb all that much from the last couple of years. Then-." She degenerated into mumbles, planning his life to herself for the next few weeks.  
  
He tolerated her good-naturedly for the rest of the day and when she immediately headed for her dorm after classes to draw up some schedules he watched her go with a smile. Ron scratched his head.  
  
"What'd you say to her?" he asked.  
  
"I asked her for help in potions."  
  
"What! How could you?" Ron cried. "I'll never see either of you again. You know how she gets."  
  
"Quiet Ron." Harry shushed him. "She really likes it."  
  
"Yeah." Ron said and something in his voice made Harry look at him.  
  
He was gazing fondly at the girl as she came hurrying back down the staircase. A small smile curving his lips. His eyes were warm and bright. He went over to Hermione smiling affectionately and Harry watched the way they talked and looked at each other and wondered why he'd never seen it before.  
  
Yeah, he thought, he does understand.  
  
Harry spent the rest of the week hiding most of his food from Hermione. His appetite showed no signs of returning and he didn't feel like explaining himself to an angry Hermione. He just wasn't hungry anymore. He didn't really think about it. It would return when it returned and until then he ate very little. Like a few bites little before he stared feeling sick.  
  
He also spent a lot of the time composing the apology he'd like to say to Snape on Saturday which went something like, "I'm sorry for invading your privacy, even though what I saw wasn't that humiliating and you overreacted like the big bat you are, and because you think I'm my father – which I'm not – you kicked me out. And because of that I couldn't block the dreams and got my godfather killed. I hope Voldemort tortures you a lot." And then he redrafted it into something Snape would want to hear. "I'm sorry Professor Snape for invading your privacy. I was wrong of me and I promise I'll never do it again and I didn't tell anyone. Even though it was pretty stupid of you to leave that pensieve out I hope you can forgive me." That one needed a few revisions too. But by the time seven o'clock Saturday rolled around he one pretty much worked out and he knocked on the dungeon door.  
  
"Get in here Potter." Snape barked. "Legilimens!"  
  
Harry stumbled back as his mind was forcefully broken into and then he was- .  
  
Standing in the rain outside number 4 Privet Drive hoping that his aunt would remember he was out there soon. He would knock but they always got so mad when they were reminded he was there and they started-.  
  
Yelling at Hermione as she urged him worriedly to eat more. It was so annoying she was always-.  
  
Watching Malfoy hurriedly leave the compartment on the first day back as Ron chattered obliviously beside him.  
  
"Pathetic." Snape spat. "You didn't practice clearing your mind at all. I shouldn't have expected any more from the Boy Who Lived, he's to good to listen to his betters. No wonder you got your godfather killed. Get out Potter."  
  
Harry clenched his fists in outrage. How dare he! He had practiced. He'd practiced so diligently every night that his dorm mates were beginning to make fun of him.  
  
"I did practice!" he cried.  
  
"Then you weren't doing it correctly! Get out!" Snape bellowed.  
  
"Then tell me the right way!" Harry screamed back, surging to his feet from where he fallen from Snape's attack. He came up close enough to feel Snapes breathe brush against his face in angry little puffs. Harry was suddenly dizzy. He unobtrusively widened his stance a little to brace himself and slowed his breathing down. The dizziness had started in late August whenever he got too worked up. He didn't worry about it too much. The Dursleys hadn't fed him much so it was probably because of that. It would go away when his appetite came back.  
  
"You don't even know how to clear your mind?" Snape hissed incredulously.  
  
"No. Sir."  
  
"You didn't think to study ahead of time you stupid boy!"  
  
"No sir." It hadn't even occurred to his that there might be books in the library on the subject. He wouldn't have know where to find them or what to study anyway but he didn't tell him that. Snape wouldn't care. The potions master turned on his heel, robes flying, and bent over the desk his desk, quill scribbling furiously. When he was done he thrust a piece of paper at the boy. Harry recoiled and blinked cautiously at it before taking it.  
  
"Get those books from the library and read them, I expect to see you back here three weeks from now with the knowledge you need. Now leave."  
  
"But-." What about his apology?  
  
"Go Potter!"  
  
Harry got. If Snape didn't want his apology then Harry would gladly keep it to himself. The black haired boy looked down at the paper in his hand and sighed. That was a lot of books and when combined with all the work he was going to have to do to keep up in potions it didn't look like he'd see the light of day for a while.  
  
He might as well get some sleep while he could. Harry trudged to his bed, absently noting that Ron wasn't there, and changed into his pajamas, padding into the bathroom he brushed his teeth and looked reluctantly up into the mirror. He didn't do it much anymore. He never liked what he saw.  
  
He could see why Hermione was worried. He was too pale and thin, his cheekbone were startlingly prominent. His eyes had dark bruises around them and his hair was limp and ragged. He hadn't had a hair cut in God knows how long. He was shorter than he should have been despite the growth spurt he'd suffered last year and younger looking too. One of Dursleys neighbors had mistaken him for a fourteen-year-old. He'd been dismayed to find out Harry was sixteen.  
  
Harry could see why he'd mistaken him for a child. His face had never really lost that childlike roundness despite his thinness and his limbs were the gangly, knobby mess of a boy in his first growth spurt and hadn't quiet caught up with himself yet. It was at odds with his hands though, they were long and callused and covered in scars from when he'd worked in the kitchen before he was coordinated enough to reliably handle a knife.  
  
Harry's large, worn pajama top hung loosely from his torso but he knew what was underneath. He was skinny. He had some muscle from his days in the garden but mostly he was just thin. See all your ribs type thin. But Harry didn't look at himself all that often, it'd get better soon.  
  
"Oh dear, you look awful." The mirror cooed.  
  
"I'm fine." His new mantra. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. He turned away from it, tired of looking at his depressed face; everyone else did more than enough of that for him.  
  
He lay wake in his bed until he heard Ron come in and then stared at the ceiling a while longer. He fell asleep at some point because when he opened his eyes next the windows were filled with light. Dust motes dancing gaily in the beams.  
  
Over the next two weeks Harry's prediction came true. When he wasn't in the common room studying potions with Hermione peering over his shoulder he was reading up on Occulmency or doing homework from his other classes. It was only when he felt he was going to go insane and bash the next cheerful person's face in that he went outside to meander around the school grounds.  
  
Whenever Hermione was done studying, and it was inevitable that she was done before him, she and Ron would leave to do whatever it was they did. Harry didn't think they were a couple yet but he liked to think he was helping them along by not trailing after them. When they came back after dinner or whenever, they always asked if he'd eaten and he would say yes, while they were gone. He hadn't of course, and he kept gradually losing weight but they didn't need to know that. He found a potion that masked it and no one was the wiser.  
  
Except he couldn't hide his increased irritability, nor the way he paused when he stood to let his head clear. He'd taken to wearing sweaters most of the time because he was always cold. He could tell that they were worried by his behavior but they didn't press, he always reacted harshly.  
  
He also noticed a steady decline in the number of dreams Voldemort sent him. Or maybe it was the number of dreams that Harry let get through. Harry felt very accomplished and dutifully reported the significant ones to Dumbledor. That is to say he told the old man about the ones where Voldemort killed people, not the ones where he taunted Harry. Those weren't really any of the Headmasters business. Albus had shown he couldn't be trusted with matters of the heart.  
  
One night Harry dreamed of Voldemort, which wasn't unusual, but the way Voldemort wasn't aware of him was. The red eyed overlord was bent over a long table intently studying the plans to a building. Harry could feel his excitement, it twisted along his nerves like poison, making him feel sick to his stomach. It was big. It had to be. Voldemort wanted this so much. A lot of people would be hurt or die. Harry stepped forward to get a closer look at the blue prints. He had to stop this. Voldemort immediately whirled around.  
  
"Insolent nosy boy!" he hissed and Harry was thrown roughly back into his own head and into wakefulness.  
  
Swinging to his feet he didn't even bother with proper robes. He snagged a Weasley sweater and had it on by the time he reached the portrait hole. At the gargoyle Harry quickly said the password and went straight into the Headmasters office. Dumbledor wasn't there.  
  
"Wake him up. I had a dream." Harry told the portraits.  
  
A plain looking woman nodded and left her frame. Harry sat down to wait for Dumbledor. The old man appeared shortly, from a previously hidden door. He had his beard tied back and a surprisingly plain sleeping cap perched jauntily on his head. His normally twinkling eyes peered seriously over the rims of his glasses at him.  
  
"You had a dream Harry?" He settled himself behind his desk. "Lemon drop?"  
  
"No thanks. Yes, I had a dream. Voldemorts planning on attack a building. A big one I think."  
  
Dumbledor leaned forward as Harry described his dream. When he was done Albus settled back, his face serious.  
  
"What makes you think it was an important building Harry?" he questioned.  
  
"The blueprints he was looking at were big and he was eager." Harry shivered, remembering. "He was going to attack and he couldn't wait."  
  
"But you didn't see what building." Dumbledor prodded.  
  
"No." Harry didn't like the way this conversation was heading. Why wasn't Dumbledor up and doing something already?  
  
"Then I'm sorry. We cannot do anything if we don't know where the attack is going to be."  
  
Harry gaped, stunned.  
  
"But you have sources! You have to. Have them ask around-."  
  
"And expose themselves to danger for an attack that might not even happen? Harry, we don't even know if that dream was by accident or not."  
  
"It wasn't sent to me!"  
  
Dumbledor gazed at him regretfully.  
  
"You have thought that before my boy."  
  
Sirius.  
  
Harry felt like he'd been sucker punched. He sucked in a deep breath and tried not to let the Headmaster see how deeply his words had affected him.  
  
"Of course." He choked out. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time. In the future I'll make sure I know something useful before coming to you."  
  
He stood unaware of Dumbledors worried gaze on his back as he strode to the door. Unfortunately in his distraction Harry forgot to pause to let his head clear and, with his hand on the doorknobe, he swayed dangerously and had just enough time to be dismayed before blissful darkness gathered him in.  
  
CHAPTER END  
  
Oh thank god that's over with. This was nearly twenty pages written down on paper and I'm not the fastest typist around. Sorry it took so long. Harry just kept going on and on and on. The next chapter is a lot shorter. So it should be out sooner. I have five chapters written so you guys will get at least that much. Thank you everyone who offered to beta and I really appreciate all of you nice reviews.  
  
By the way, Harry is a bit different as you might have noticed. It is my personal belief that Harry could not have survived growing up with the Dursleys and ten years of neglect and verbal abuse with out some sort of mental scarring to show for it. The Dursleys always punished him by withholding food so now as a punishment to himself for getting Sirius killed, as he believes he's stopped feeding himself, only he's not really aware that that's what he's doing, he just is.  
  
Also, since the Dursleys wouldn't have wanted him to make much noise so Harry probably would have grown up a quiet kid and that would probably extend to now so that's going to be showing up. And since he never got anything as a kid, was never allowed anything, and told he didn't deserve it deep down despite all the praise heaped upon him by the wizarding world he doesn't really believe he deserves anything. Like love.  
  
Until next I update! 


	3. Infirmary Draco Style

Disclaimer= I don't own Harry Potter. I'm butchering the characters for my own evil, slightly twisted purposes.  
  
Chapter 3 (a.k.a. the ridiculously short chapter)  
  
Draco Malfoy knew two things within moments of his awakening. One was that Harry Potter was in the room and not too far away from him judging by the strength of the scent assaulting him. And two, that he was in the hospital wing. This brought on an army of questions, the first and foremost of which was what the hell was Harry doing in the infirmary? Well, Draco wasn't going to hang around to find out. Already Draco could feel the urge to go check on the boy and maybe hold him until he woke up tugging on his feet.  
  
Draco heaved himself out of bed feeling more energetic than he had in weeks and made for the door still in his infirmary robes. He couldn't help but stare at the sleeping boy as he passed him though. The morning sunlight was very flattering on the other boys pale skin. Made it glow quite nicely, but why was he there? Maybe she should just go over there for a second and make sure he was alright - No! He was leaving. The Golden Boy could rot away for all he cared. Freedom was only feet away.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy!"  
  
Oh fuck. Pompfrey.  
  
"You get back in bed this instant young man. You're in no condition top go back to classes yet!"  
  
She bustled toward him, her dress flagging out behind her like a galleon at full sail. Draco drew himself up and prepared himself to fend the maddening woman off.  
  
"I am perfectly fine." he said coldly.  
  
"You are not! You have been severely neglecting yourself young man. Imagine! A veela avoiding his mate. You could have died."  
  
Cold horror swept through Draco. Did she know? He was ruined. She's tell Dumbledor and he'd tell his father. His father. Lucious would kill him, or worse, disown him. He'd be penniless. And Harry would find out. Oh Merlin, this would make the boy hate him even more and avoid him like he had the plague. Or even better, Harry would feel obligated to be with him even though he didn't want to. It would kill Draco to see Harry unhappy everyday at being near him no matter how he wished he could still take joy from Potters miseries.  
  
Play it cool Draco, he told himself. She might not know and be trying to trip you up. Stay calm. He forcefully steered his mind to focus on the last part of what Pompfrey had said.  
  
"I could have died? Nonsense, I was just tired, it was nothing serious." he informed her.  
  
The woman arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
"You are aware that you are a veela Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.  
  
"Of course!" he exclaimed, offended.  
  
"But you don't know that staying away from your mate could kill you?" She shook her head and tutted. "Sit down Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster will need to speak with you and I have a potion that will help a little."  
  
What did she mean he could have died? All he needed from Harry was love, he shuddered in disgust and sat down on the bed. He relaxed minutely as Pompfrey turned away, she didn't seem to be aware of who his mate was and as soon as she was out of the room, leapt to his feet and headed for Harry's bed.  
  
Damn it all why was the stupid boy here? What was wrong with him? Hopefully nothing...so he could leave quickly, the pest.  
  
"Get back in bed this instant Mr. Malfoy. I'll not have you leaving this hospital to kill yourself."  
  
Pompfrey appeared from nowhere nearly giving him a heart attack and dragged him back to his bed. She then hovered over him, making sure he stayed in it, blithely ignoring his glares. Shoving a foul potion into his hands she gestured for him to drink it. He tried to hand it back to her.  
  
"I refuse. There is nothing wrong with me."  
  
"You will drink that potion Mr. Malfoy if you wish to ever leave this infirmary." She pushed it back and Draco reluctantly downed it, grimacing at the taste. He handed her the bottle in hopes she's leave again to disposed of it. She set the bottle down on the bedside table with a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing and she was having none of it.  
  
"Ah, Madame Pompfrey had informed me you were awake." Dumbledor.  
  
Draco could feel a tick pulling at his eye that was sure to become permanent if he continued to speak with the old man.  
  
Dumbledor pulled himself up a chair to sit in and dismissed Pomprey with a glance.  
  
"How are you feeling today my boy?" he smiled jovially, doing that damn twinkle.  
  
"I'm fine." Draco ground out. "And I would appreciate it if you would get to the point. I would like to get to all my classes today."  
  
"Ah, well." The old man had the gall to look disappointed. "I suppose you wouldn't want a lemon drop then?"  
  
"No. Thank you."  
  
Dumbledor straitened up looking less like someone's crazy old grandfather and more like the headmaster of a large school.  
  
"I understand that you are a veela Mr. Malfoy, a very well-kept secret if I do say so myself." He couldn't resist another twinkle. Draco's eye twitched again. "I also understand you have found your mate but have not spent any significant amount of time with them, or even told them for that matter. In fact, I am informed by Professor Snape that you spend most of your time in the dungeons, avoiding people."  
  
Draco lifted his chin and did not deign to comment. Dumbldor continued.  
  
"You do understand that as a veela who has found it's mate most of your energy is derived by that person and by depriving yourself of this individual you essentially starving yourself."  
  
Draco looked sharply at the old man, studying him, Dumbldor had no reason to lie to him. So that was another thing his mother had neglected, or been unable, to tell him. Because her own son just wasn't important to her as her mate. Draco repressed a shiver, and Potter would become that important to him should they mate. He would be so important that Draco would neglect his family because of him, would go insane if Harry left him. Draco looked away from the Headmasters gaze.  
  
"No, I wasn't aware." he said bitterly.  
  
"Your mother never informed you?" Dumbledor asked, genuinely surprised.  
  
"My mother was a veela Professor," he spat "and her mate was gone, she wasn't in any condition to tell me anything." His accusing stare left no room for doubt about whom he blamed.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Anger burned at Draco. How dare he! The blonde want to leap from the white bed and hit the old man, to scream and shake him and make sure those thrice damned eyes never twinkled again. He was one of the people who put his father in jail! He had no right to say he was sorry, no right to sit there looking at him pityingly. He wasn't some stupid creature to be led around and looked at and pitied because oh! He didn't know any better or what was good for himself. The veela swallowed his rage with difficulty.  
  
"Thank you." he didn't quiet chock on the words.  
  
"Do you have any idea who you mate is Draco?"  
  
Draco repressed a flinch when the old man used his name.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh good!" the old man beamed. "Then we can settle this quickly. Just tell me who it is and we'll make the proper arrangements."  
  
Something in the back of Dracos mind relaxed with the confirmation that the Headmaster did not know who his mate was. "Proper arrangements?" Draco raised an eyebrow and suppressed the urge to glance over at Harry.  
  
"Well, yes. You will need to be near your mate so you can get as much energy as possible from them. Eventually that won't be enough, but hopefully it will have been long enough for you two to be comfortable with each other so that you can, mate."  
  
Under normal circumstances Draco would have immensely enjoyed Dumbldor's slight discomfort but not today.  
  
"I'm sorry but I'm going to have to decline to reveal that information." he said ever so politely. Ha! Like he would let Dumbledor have that sort of information to hold over his head. Or Harry for that matter.  
  
"You do understand that should you continue to avoid your mate your condition will deteriorate until you die in great pain from not being near her." Dumbledor pressed.  
  
"I do." Draco said stiffly. Horrified at the thought of wasting away but it wasn't as horrible as the thought of spending the rest of his life practically a slave to Potter and his puppet master. "I still refuse."  
  
For a moment the twinkle died in the old mans eye and he searched Draco's face. The blond very carefully did not look in Harry's direction.  
  
"Very well Mr. Malfoy." he sighed. "I cannot force you to do anything. However, I do have some books, "he pulled several books from his stupid robes and placed them on the bed next to Draco. "that might help you. They are about veela. I suggest you read them. Have a good day."  
  
The old man levered himself out of his chair and the second the infirmary door closed behind him Draco began cursing.  
  
"Meddling old bastard!" he hissed, angry and desperate and scared. Oh Merlin, he didn't want to die. He was too young, he hadn't done anything yet. Snatching up the empty bottle from the bedside table he threw it against the nearest wall. It hit with an unsatisfying click, bouncing to the floor whole. An unbreakable charm. He cursed the bottle for extra measure. Unfair, and for once in his life he wasn't being a spoiled brat when he said it.  
  
His throat suddenly got clogged, forcing him silent and he dropped his head into his hands. First he couldn't choose who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and then he couldn't control his own body, and now he was dieing. Who would look after his mother? Surely they would send her to an institution, she would die there. And Blaise would be left on his own with the whole Sliytherin house. It was only Draco's protection, diminished as it was, that kept the boy safe from those that didn't like his neutral allegiances. He was only a kid, he shouldn't have to deal with these things. He wasn't ready to choose between a life of slavery or death.  
  
Dear Merlin, help me he begged silently.  
  
Draco took several deep breaths and calmed down a little. Alright, he could deal with this, one thing at a time. He glanced over to where Harry slept, just to see if he was dead yet, of course, and jumped as he was met by startlingly green eyes.  
  
Harry had been awake.  
  
Draco was suddenly absurdly grateful that he hated Dumbledore and wouldn't trust him with his toenail clippings. If Harry had been listening the whole time he only knew Draco was a veela and was dying. He should be happy about that since he hated him.  
  
"I always knew you were too much of a git to be human." Harry said dryly when he saw Draco sneering at him.  
  
"Eavesdropping on others conversations Potter? To stupid to know when your not wanted?"  
  
Draco hid a grimace. Was that all he could throw at Potter? He might as well have kept his mouth shut.  
  
Harry blinked at him from across the room, confusion clear in his beautiful green eyes. And then he started laughing.  
  
"That was pathetic Malfoy!"  
  
If he hadn't already thrown the potion bottle Draco would have done so now. Preferably at Potters face, or as close to it as his veela instincts would let him.  
  
"Sod off." he snarled and jerked one of the books Dumbledor had left into his lap. He pulled it up so it blocked out Harrys laughing form and scowled at the pages in front of him, pretending to read. Hopefully the irritating boy would leave him alone to waste away in peace.  
  
End Chapter 3  
  
7-13-04  
  
Dear me. I updated and then last night I was looking at the story again and I realized I forgot the last part of the chapter. It's not that important but I felt wrong about leaving it out. So there's a couple new paragraphs at the end... yeah...sorry.  
  
W00t. That's done. It would have been out even faster, because, lets face it this chapter is really short except my 1997 gateway PC finally decided it'd had enough and shut down for the final time. I have a new one, a Sony vaio, but it took me a bit to get going because I'd typed the beginning of this chapter on my old one and forgot to back it up and I didn't want to start over. That and I got Final Fantasy 11 and Gunbound. Those have taken up quiet a nit of time... Oh well. The good news is....well I don't have any. The next chapter is even shorter than this one and chapter six is coming along at a snails pace. Draco's characterization is really bugging me.  
  
It's like to make this I had to bound and gag the really Harry and draco and throw them in the back of my mind and create whole new characters that looked like them and sounded a bit like them but weren't them. And now that I've come to their interactions the reall Harry and draco have escaped and are now having screaming tantrums in my head going "Who the hell do you take me for?! I HATE HIM! I wouldn't say that! I'd kick his ass!" and so on.  
  
Here's hoping they shut up. 


	4. Infirmary Harry Style

I don't own Harry Potter or anything related. Don't sue, it makes me sad.  
  
Chapter 4 the even shorter chapter!  
  
Bastard. Harry sat back glaring. An utter snot just like first year and every year after that. He watched the blond hunch, trying to hide behind the open book , Harry could tell he was working himself up to a loud rage that would bring Pompfrey running so he averted his eye's and contemplated his feet. The last thing he wanted was the overbearing nurse coming in, he'd pretended he was asleep while Dumbledor was talking to Malfoy for a reason.  
  
When he'd woken up he'd immediately known he was in the infirmary wing from the sterile smell and nearly panicked. He was sure Dumbledor had brought him down and then Pompfrey and checked him over just to make sure there wasn't anything wrong with him and they'd found out how much weight he'd lost. They'd overreact. Probably send him to St. Mungo's, with the Longbottoms. He'd shuddered, but stilled as he'd recognized Dumbledor's voice start up and then, Malfoy? Wondering what Malfoy was doing there he'd listened to the rest of the conversation with growing astonishment. When the Headmaster left he deemed it safe to open his eyes and stare at the veela across him. Who'd looked surprisingly distressed.  
  
Well, he'd just been told he would die, Harry snapped at himself, even Malfoy had to be distressed at that.  
  
Harry raised his eye's from his socks and looked at the veela again. The other boy had stopped glaring at the pages of his book and instead looked...sad? Regretful? Or maybe he looked normal and almost kind. Yes, that was it. A small detail nagged at Harry. Come to think of it, Malfoy hadn't really bugged him or his friends all year had he? In the corridors he's almost acted...civil. It was like Dumbledor had said. Harry wracked his brain for the other times he's seen Malfoy. The blond had missed most of the meal in the Great Hall that Harry could think of and when he'd been there he'd always left early. In fact the only time Harry could remember Malfoy this close to anybody really was on the train ride at the beginning of the year.  
  
Being a veela would certainly explain why the blond was suddenly so unnaturally beautiful all of a sudden a very random thought piped up.  
  
Harry could only see the top of Malfoys silvery head over the tome he was reading now that he'd propped it on his knees but he could remember how flawless the boy looked. His pert nose upturned enough to let him look like a spoiled brat while just sitting there. His eyes were more gray than blue and more expressive than Malfoy probably liked. His mouth was probably set in a thin angry line because, as much as Draco liked to pride himself on control he didn't have anywhere the discipline to achieve it. Which made Harry wonder how he had the control to stay away from his mate. Dumbledor had made it seem like it was a major feat.  
  
Admittedly, Harry knew very little about veela but how bad could finding a mate be? How nasty could his mate be to make Malfoy do the nearest equivalent to running away in terror he could while still remaining in Hogwarts?  
  
Harry felt a flash of pity for the blond but pushed it aside. Malfoy was a drama queen. It might not be that bad and he was just making a fuss, like he always did. The Buckbeak incident sprang to mind. But Malfoy had always had a strong survival instinct too. It didn't fit that he'd make a fuss if the situation was life threatening. Cocking his head to the side, Harry decided he'd just have to find out who Malfoy's mate was himself. If it wasn't really that bad he's tell her, if it really was bad...well he's figure that out when he got there.  
  
"I bet you're blowing this all out of proportion." he told Draco. "You just want the attention."  
  
Harry watched with clinical interest as Draco tensed and coiled in on himself.  
  
"What is she? Muggleborn?" Malfoys knuckles turned white where they clutched the book. "That's a really stupid reason to kill yourself. Just tell the Headmaster and get it over with." Draco slammed his book onto the bed.  
  
"What's with the sudden interest Potter?" Malfoy growled "Don't tell me you care, I won't be the next victim of your hero complex. Leave me alone!"  
  
Harry flinched and missed the look of pain that flashed over the other boys face.  
  
"You wouldn't need someone to play hero if your mother could get her act together." Harry hissed.  
  
Draco recoiled as if he's been struck, turning his head away but not before Harry saw his eye's shimmer with tears. The black haired boy gaped.  
  
Malfoy was crying? Because of something Harry had said? Harry struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that Malfoy did things other than get angry and act malicious. Well, he had know that he did other things but he'd never really thought about it you know? It was only an abstract idea and suddenly that idea was thrust into full three dimensional life. Draco Malfoy was hurt, because of what Harry had said, like Harry hurt when Uncle Vernon insulted him.  
  
That thought brought him up short. Was he like Uncle Vernon? He shivered. Did he really just make fun of someone because his parents were gone? True Lucius was still alive, but if he wasn't insane already he would be soon, and by extension Draco would lose his mother. Malfoy may have been a git but he didn't need to be made fun of. Revulsion made Harry feel nauseous, he was no better than Malfoy or Uncle Vernon or even Voldemort. Harry resolved he wouldn't do it again no matter how much of an ass Malfoy acted.  
  
With this resolve his curiosity crept forward again. Here was this person he'd been fighting with for over five years and he knew next to nothing about him. Malfoy could feel, alright, but what did he feel? And what about? Harry suddenly wanted to know. What did Malfoy do when he wasn't being an ass? And he was a veela to boot. How did that effect him?  
  
But how to broach the subject? You don't just hate someone for years and then turn about and go "Hey, I want to know what makes you tick. Can I follow you around some?" That didn't float. Malfoy would have him for breakfast.  
  
He stared hard at Malfoy the gears in his head whirling frantically and not getting anywhere. He didn't notice the other boy become uncomfortable and fidget until, finally, he exploded.  
  
"For Merlins sake Potter! Stop staring at me!" he roared. Harry started and blushed, embarrassed at being caught staring.  
  
"What's all this noise? Oh, Mr. Potter, you're awake." she bustled over to him and he shrank back.  
  
Oh God, kill me now, he begged silently. He didn't want to go to St Mungos and be stuck with the Longbottoms for the rest of his life. Dread suffocated him, he couldn't breath. Everyone would hate him. It wasn't fair! He didn't need any help! He'd have gotten better. All he needed was some more time.  
  
"Albus told me how you fainted from all the excitement last night." Harry thought he might faint with relief. "The Headmaster has spoken to you Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good, you can go back to class then but I want you back in here once a week for that potion or I'll drag you in here myself, got it? And for Merlin's sake, tell the girl before you kill yourself!" she shouted after his rapidly retreating form.  
  
The blond aristocrat grumbled something back that sounded fairly insulting and disappeared. Madame Pompfrey sighed. "That boy." Harry couldn't tell if she was worried or frustrated with Malfoy.  
  
"Well, anyway Mr. Potter, Ablus didn't want to disturb your dorm mates by bringing you back in so he brought you here to sleep it off. Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Oh yes." Harry fumbled for a plausible excuse. "I've just been staying up really late the last couple of weeks and it must have caught up to me." he smiled innocently. "I won't be doing that again."  
  
"As you shouldn't." she tutted. "I want you to got to bed early tonight but other than that you should be fine and free to go. I don't want you in here for at least a week."  
  
"Thanks Madame Pompfrey." he smiled again just so relieved that she didn't know that he was floating on air.  
  
He hopped out bed and disguised his moment of dizziness by tugging his bed covers straight. Pompfrey shooed him away.  
  
"That's my job, you go see your friends. I bet they're wondering where you are."  
  
Harry hid a wince. Yeah, they would be worried and want to know where he's been. It looked like more lying would be required.  
  
A dark shape on Malfoy's bed caught his eye. The books Dumbledor had given the veela were still there. In his hast to leave Malfoy had apparently forgotten them. Harry scooped them up and tucked them under an arm. He'd have to return them to Malfoy.  
  
After he was done reading them, of course.  
  
END CHAPTER  
  
:wince:  
  
Oh ouch. I just reread this thing and it's awful. I can't think of a way to rewrite the whole thing though. So here you go. Sorry. Blah, I expect to do some rewrites in a couple weeks. But suffer through this in the meantime.  
  
I apologize for the length of this chapter. I just couldn't think of anything else that needed to be said here. Good news though the next chapter is a bit more than twice this size. This also means that it will take longer to type but, oh well. Um... chapter six still coming along at a very, very slow crawl. But it's still going. As soon as I get the hang of Harry Draco interaction it'll fly.  
  
Anyway, thank you everybody whose reviewed. And that person that told me that Dumbledor was spelled with an e on the end...I can't find any of my HP books to check but thank you for the heads up and when I confirm it I'll change it. 


	5. Nutzoid

Well me oh my, Dumbledore is spelled with an e on the end. It shall be so from this chapter on…but not in any of the first ones because I'm very lazy.

This delightful thing took so long to update because…well because I'm me which for those who know me makes sense but since none of you do (I'm very sure of that, I'm completely internet friendless, I have no desire nor patience for that sort of thing) that comment is rather useless isn't it. I'm feeling rather contrary right now, writing papers for school does that to me. They always come out sarcastic. Anywho…

CHAPTER 5 the chapter where things begin to fall apart (for the author anyway)

Draco Malfoy was sure he was going to go insane.

Blasie would go to his bed one morning not to far from now to wake him up and there he would be, lying there in his night robes gibbering to himself and quietly foaming at the mouth and they'd send him to St. Mungos to a nice white room right next to the one they would put his mother in shortly thereafter and that's where he'd stay for the rest of his life. The Prophet would undoubtedly interview Blaise for his side of the story when he found the last Malfoy and all Blaise would be able to add would be "He was talking about Potter and how he was everywhere, around every corner, following him."

It would be the great mystery of their generation.

The bloody boy was stalking him! Draco was sure of it. Potter was doing it just to fuck with his head, somehow he knew his scent made Draco go weak in the knees so he made sure Draco could almost always smell him but he could never see the blasted savior of the wizarding world! Draco was never certain if he was imagining things. One minute he was sure he just wanted to be near Harry so badly he'd created the scent and the next he was sure that Harry was standing just around that nearest corner and if he just got there quick enough Harry would be there waiting for him, watching him. Sometimes Draco started to speed up before he realized he was doing anything and then he had to stop to terrorize some students and pretend that's what he meant to do.

The whole thing had started out innocently enough. He'd been eating breakfast at his usual time, too early, and concentrating intently on it and not on the fact that most Slytherins were of the idea that he'd become a complete ponce and at some point in the near future he'd probably have to send one or two to the infirmary to prove he was still something to be reckoned with or they'd think he was easy pickings. No Malfoy suffered to be picked on! He stabbed at his eggs viciously and froze as he became aware of being watched.

Flicking his eyes discreetly around the room they fell upon the bright green eyes of one Harry Potter. He was staring unashamedly at him, his face neutral and he didn't touch the food in front of him. When he caught Draco's astonished look his mouth twitched into a smile. Draco nearly fell off his seat and then looked back at his plate. Maybe if he ignored the boy he'd go away.

Draco continued with his food distractedly, glancing up at the black haired boy every so often. Harry wasn't always staring at him, he read from an old tome as well. Draco decided it was time to leave when he found himself becoming jealous of the book for getting so much of Harry's attention.

What had Potter been doing up so early? Draco didn't know and with a little effort he convinced himself he didn't care either. He was pretty good at ignoring how Harry showed up at breakfast early for the next couple of days but when Harry started showing up randomly around the school where Draco 'just happened' to be his mind started going into overdrive. It started coming up with all sorts of theories about Harry's appearances. Most of which were extremely unbelievable.

Boy wonder always showed up in places where it was extremely plausible that he just be there. Except there was that scent following Draco every where!

Potions was a nightmare. Potter's gaze burnt a nearly literal hole in his back, making him hunch in his seat. And since Draco couldn't turn around to look without being totally obvious about it he had to just sit there and squirm. After two days Draco's resistance broke and he leaned over to Blaise.

"Blaise." he hissed.

"Wait." Balise said distractedly, concentrating on adding the bat toenails in at just the right moment.

He dropped them in the concoction with a deep breath and relaxed with it didn't blow up in his face.

"What Draco?"

Of all the people in Slytherin house Blaise Zabini was the one of the only people to stay by Draco's side as he lost favor. Mostly because he'd known Draco since they were very little and thought of him like a brother; annoying a lot and bratty, but he wouldn't desert him because of a little strange behavior.

"Is Potter staring at me?" The blond asked furtively.

"What?" Blaise stared at him incredulously.

Why would Draco care if Potter was staring at him?

"Come on Zabini." Draco snapped. "Is he staring?"

Blaise glanced back carefully. Yes, the Golden Boy was staring at Draco's back intensely. Like he wanted to take Draco apart fiddle around with his insides a bit and piece him back together. When he noticed Blaise's eyes on him he looked between the two boys and then away.

"Yes." Blaise dragged the word out. "Why is Potter staring at you?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Draco demanded. "Potter just started doing it a week ago. Got up early for breakfast to catch me and everything."

Snape was looking at them. Draco turned forward and began mashing his roots with fervor.

"You don't think he's planning something do you?" Blaise speculated.

He absently pulled the roots away from Draco ignoring the blonds glare. He carefully measured out portions and put them in each of their cauldrons. Had he been Gryffindor Snape would have been all over him, but he was a Slytherin so Snape left them alone.

"He's too Gryffindor to plan anything." Draco dismissed the notion with a flick of his head.

Blaise wasn't so easily put off.

"You might want to watch you back anyway Draco, Potter's not always a good two shoes." he warned.

Draco could feel his precious control slipping away from him. He was irrationally furious that Blaise would insinuate that his mate would harm him and behind that bubbled frustration of weeks of strict control as his housemates all had a go at him egged it on. The veela turned on Blaise in a flash.

"Don't you ever-!" with a great effort he stopped himself.

Quivering he turned back to the front and impaled his knife halfway up the blade in the table in an effort to expel the irritating emotions. The class goggled at him.

"Why have you all stopped?" Snape roared. "Get back to your potions before you destroy them! Ten points from Gryffindor."

Draco was immediately forgotten in the rush to grumble of the unfairness of it all. Snape billowed his way over to Draco.

"Are you all right? Do you need to go see Pompfrey?" he murmured.

And that was another thing that was driving the blond nuts. Professor Snape treated him like he was dying, which he was, but the greasy old man wasn't helping any. Draco had no doubt that second Dumbledore had left the infirmary he'd immediately apprised the potions master of the situation. The minute Snape had seen him after Draco had been released he'd pulled the partial veela to the side and told him that no matter who his mate was he would always be there to lend an ear or help in any way . Those hadn't been the exact words but Draco thought that was the gist of it. Snape had then started snarling at Potter who happened to be taking to long to leave his classroom and deducted two points for loitering in the hallways.

Draco reflected as he headed in the opposite direction, so that he didn't kick his head of houses shins, that Snape might have understood anyone except for Potter.

He'd been popping up randomly in the common room ever since making sure Draco was ok and generally being about as much of a mother hen as Severus Snape could be.

"I'm fine sir." Draco muttered.

He actually wasn't lying. He was felling better than he had in weeks. Every Sunday he dutifully went to the infirmary and took his potion. Miraculously, it was helping. Stairs still left him out of breath, but he wasn't dizzy anymore nor was he having problems lifting his backpack.

Snape grunted and swooped away to intimidate Longbottom.

"What was that!" Blaise hissed.

"Nothing."

"It sure didn't look like nothing." Blaise muttered.

Potters gaze still rested between Draco's shoulder blades.

Several days later Draco decided he'd had it. He was sitting in the library minding his own business and Potter strolled in like he hadn't a care in the world, some books tucked under his arm and sat down a couple of table away. Then he stole a glance at Draco. Draco snapped. He slammed his own book down and stalked over to his irritating mate.

"What the hell are you playing out?" he demanded.

Potter squirmed guiltily. Draco swallowed an apology and hardened his glare. Merlin the boy was beautiful. He could just stand there for hours staring at his eyes. Draco mentally shook himself, get yourself together Malfoy! Do you want to be nothing but a simpering slave the rest of your life?

Potter pushed the books he'd been carrying toward him he snapped to attention.

"You left them in the infirmary." he muttered "They're interesting."

And then he left. Draco almost didn't notice he was too busy staring at the books, horrified. He'd forgotten the books the old man left him. In the presence of Harry Potter no less. The boy that couldn't keep his nose out of other peoples business even if you had him at knife point. Harry Potter knew more about being a veela than he did! It was insufferable. Draco snatched the old books up and made for his dorms, where he could hopefully read in peace.

"Oh look who's back." An upstart called as he stepped into the cool green and sliver room.

Fucking stupid children didn't know when to keep their mouths shut. This was turning into the day of "I've had it." He had his wand out and had cursed the fourth year while the imbecile was still fumbling for his wand. The common room went completely silent to watch the episode. Draco glided over to the young man backing him up into the wall. Menace in the hard line of his mouth.

"I'm not quiet sure how you forgot I own you." he murmured. "I own half the people in this room. What possibly made you think you could get away with it forever? You can't, in fact, I seem to recall a certain person at a party involved in some activities that their parents would be very disturbed to hear about. Especially if it was through the Daily Prophet."

Draco watched the boy pale horribly with cold, unfeeling eyes.

"But, I'm feeling lenient at the moment, the curse will wear off in a few days and your secrets safe with me for now. You have one strike against you however and next time there will be consequences. Do you understand me?"

The boy nodded frantically.

"Out loud."

"Yes, I understand Draco."

"Aren't I generous?" Draco smirked cruelly.

"Yes."

"Louder."

"YES, YOU'RE VERY GENEROUS. THANK YOU FOR SPARING ME!"

Several of the older student in the common room exchanged glances. There was the Draco Malfoy they remembered.

Draco left the boy at the wall, sauntering to his room without a backward glance. He paused when he reached his bed and shook himself. Damn, he'd forgotten how good that felt.

END CHAPTER

Actually there's more to this chapter but I'm taking so long to get it out and this seemed like an ok place to stop to I decided to post up what I have. What's it been? Like six months? Oppsies.


End file.
